Page 7

Enzo gives me a peculiar look before laughing. "Occupational hazard."

I assume he means Los Angeles traffic. I've wanted to shoot somebody on the freeway a time or two myself.

Nico excuses himself to find his bride, but another man approaches Enzo almost immediately. Before the older gentleman can speak, Enzo raises one hand. The man stops, nods, and changes direction.

Well, that's interesting.

"Are you secretly the president or something?" I ask.

"Not last time I checked."

"Because people keep acting like you're somebody important."

"Maybe they just have good manners." He takes my hand. "Come outside with me, Bridget. I'd like a few minutes where nobody needs anything from me."

"See? Bossy."

"Very."

At least the bastard doesn't deny it.

The terrace overlooks Los Angeles, with thousands of lights glittering beneath the night sky. Roses line the stone railing, and music drifts through the glass doors behind us.

It's the kind of place where romance novels are supposed to happen.

Unfortunately, I've read enough of them to know the handsome hero usually comes with complications.

"Beautiful," I whisper, admiring the view.

"It is."

When I turn, Enzo isn't looking at the city.

He's looking at me.

"You're very good at this," I tell him.

"At what?"

"Making women feel special."

His expression grows serious. "I'm not trying to make every woman feel special, Bridget. I'm interested in getting to know you." The sincerity in his voice makes me nervous in a way his flirting hasn't.

"You should know I'm not very good at dating."

"Neither am I."

I laugh. "Honey, have you looked in a mirror lately?"

He steps closer. "You think I'm handsome?"

"Don't fish for compliments. I'm sure women throw their underwear at you everywhere you go."

"Not everywhere."

"Only on weekdays?"

His smile turns wicked. "Is that what you're planning?"